Secret Valentine
by Astonishment
Summary: What if Elizabeth received a series of valentines from a secret admirer?
1. Wordsworth

**Secret Valentine**

**Summary:** What if Elizabeth received a series of valentines from a secret admirer?

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Jane Austen (except for a few who were inspired by her).

**(Author's Note:** This fanfic is not intended to change any events in our favorite story.)

**Chapter 1: ****Wordsworth**

**February 9, 1812:** Elizabeth was feeling pensive; she missed her dearest sister Jane who had travelled to London with her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner at the end of December. Her hopes had been so cruelly and suddenly disappointed by the amiable Mr. Bingley. A proposal had been expected; however he had left Hertfordshire without a word. Caroline Bingley had reluctantly called on Jane at their uncle's home and made a disturbing reference to her brother's attachment to Miss Darcy; leading Elizabeth to believe that Caroline was the instigator of their sudden departure. There was no logical explanation for Mr. Bingley suddenly diverting his attentions to a sixteen year old girl who was not yet out in society; the only plausible explanation was that Caroline disapproved of his association with the Bennets.

Also weighing heavily on her mind was her dear friend, Charlotte Lucas, who had recently married the odious Mr. Collins; that sniveling, pompous, ridiculous parson! Charlotte had invited Elizabeth to visit her at the parsonage and the trip was planned for early March. There was nothing left to do until then, except for avoiding the barbs of her Mama's relentless criticism; in the two months that had passed since Elizabeth had refused Mr. Collins' proposal, her Mama continuously reproached her for her carelessness, selfishness and thoughtlessness. In her Mama's eyes, a dutiful daughter would have accepted the proposal for her family's sake, to keep their beloved home in the family; she was expected to cast aside her repulsion for the revolting toad. No, that would never do for Elizabeth, whose greatest desire was to marry for love. The only way she would marry a toad was if she truly loved said toad; she certainly could never love the toad named Collins.

Her only escape from the constant harangues of her Mama was her extended walks through the grounds of Longbourn. She would leave the house before her Mama left her bed chamber and stay out as long as the weather permitted, accompanied by her faithful companion, Dmitri, the family's Irish wolfhound. She would wander to her favorite hiding places; Oakham Mount, the pine grove, the rocky meadow and the hayfield, to read a book, play with Dmitri or merely contemplate her surroundings. On days when the weather did not oblige her, she escaped to the barn where she and Dmitri snuggled on a blanket in a cozy corner.

On this early February morning, she and Dmitri were sitting on a blanket in the pine grove contemplating their surroundings when something caught her eye: a white rectangle peeking out of a nearby hollow log. She was immediately captured by curiosity and cautiously approached the object. She concluded that this was nothing formed by nature; it was clearly man-made. As she came closer to it, she noticed that it was made of paper – a letter, perhaps? Could someone have accidentally dropped it on their way through the pine grove? She bent down to observe the item more closely and observed the fine handwriting. Upon closer inspection, she noticed the letter was addressed to 'Miss Elizabeth Bennet'. She was astonished beyond all reason! Could someone have dropped a letter intended for her? Could someone have stolen a letter from her hiding place in her closet and dropped it here? Could someone have placed a letter here, intending for her to discover it? The possibilities intrigued her. She grasped the letter and turned it over to inspect the seal; the red wax had been embossed with a fingerprint instead of a seal bearing an initial, monogram or family crest. This was very intriguing, indeed! "Who would write to me anonymously?" she wondered. Dmitri enthusiastically sniffed the paper and ran off in search of a scent, while Elizabeth retreated to her blanket.

Ordinarily, upon receiving a letter, Elizabeth would rip it open, intent on reading it immediately. This time, however, she preferred to contemplate the mystery first. There was no mistake that the letter was intended for her, of that she was certain; but who would wish to remain anonymous? It had to be a man, she concluded. No woman of her acquaintance would leave a letter for her outside, exposed to the elements, on the off-chance that she might discover it there. Since it was improper for a woman to receive correspondence from a man who was not her husband, she could only conclude that a man had left it there for her. Would this mean that the content was inappropriate? Perhaps she should not open the letter; she should just destroy it, as a precaution to unsuitable influences being made upon her. She could bring the letter home and toss it into the fire when no one was watching. She touched her finger to the seal; the fingerprint was much larger than hers – it was most definitely a man's fingerprint. She turned the letter around and around, flipping it front and back, contemplating her next move.

Perhaps she should read the letter first, and then decide whether or not to destroy it, she wondered. Knowing she would be unable to destroy the letter without first knowing the contents, she slipped her finger under the paper's edge and broke the seal. There! It was done; the seal was broken and there was no turning back now, she told herself. She held her breath as she carefully unfolded the paper and observed the contents; it was a poem. Someone had neatly copied a poem and left it here for her to discover.

* * *

**The Solitary Reaper** (1)

Behold her, single in the field,

Yon solitary Highland Lass!

Reaping and singing by herself;

Stop here, or gently pass!

Alone she cuts and binds the grain,

And sings a melancholy strain;

O listen! for the Vale profound

Is overflowing with the sound.

No Nightingale did ever chaunt

More welcome notes to weary bands

Of travellers in some shady haunt,

Among Arabian sands:

A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard

In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,

Breaking the silence of the seas

Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?-

Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow

For old, unhappy, far-off things,

And battles long ago:

Or is it some more humble lay,

Familiar matter of to-day?

Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,

That has been, and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang

As if her song could have no ending;

I saw her singing at her work,

And o'er the sickle bending;-

I listened, motionless and still;

And, as I mounted up the hill

The music in my heart I bore,

Long after it was heard no more.

* * *

There was no signature; no clue as to who had left the poem for her to discover. Dmitri finally returned and collapsed at her feet. "What does it mean, Dmitri?" she asked her companion; however, he had already fallen asleep and gave no assistance in her search for the meaning of this most perplexing correspondence. She was familiar with the poem, about a girl who sings a song that the listener finds beautiful but does not comprehend. "How appropriate," she laughed, "I also do not comprehend the meaning of this letter, sent by an anonymous man," she observed. She reread the poem several more times before folding the paper and slipping it into her pocket.

"Which men of my acquaintance would send me an anonymous poem?" she wondered. She contemplated the possibilities:

**John Lucas?** John was a few years younger than Elizabeth and she had known John his whole life but he had never expressed an interest in her, nor in poetry for that matter.

**Mr. Collins?** However revolting she found him to be, he _had_ once proposed to her. But he was now married to Charlotte and had not been in the area for the last month. The paper seemed to be pristine; untouched by the elements.

**Mr. Bingley?** Their neighbor is a most amiable gentleman, but he was currently in London. Surely she would have heard if he had returned to Netherfield. Even so, from the first moment of their acquaintance, he had only shown an interest in Jane…or so she thought!

**Mr. Darcy?** He was most certainly familiar with the works of Wordsworth but certainly had no interest in _her_; he found her _'barely tolerable'_ and had often looked upon her with scorn and disapproval. Besides that, he was probably now comfortably ensconced in his home in Derbyshire.

**Mr. Burberry?** Her Uncle Stuart Phillips' neighbor in Meryton had been recently widowed. Was he seeking a new wife? If so, why would he not call on her at Longbourn or call on her uncle while she was visiting there? Was he interested in poetry? She could not recall.

**Mr. Thurston?** The proprietor of the bookstore in Meryton was constantly complimenting her and showing her the latest editions to arrive at the shop. He knew of her love for poetry. Was he harboring secret affections for her – or was she just one of his most reliable customers?

**Mr. Wickham?** Throughout their entire acquaintance, he had never once expressed an interest in poetry. All of their conversations centered solely on him, his history and his contempt for Mr. Darcy and his family. Could something have changed in his regard that she was as yet unaware?

**Mr. Denny?** She had always regarded him as a friend, as she was sure that all her sisters did as well. Could he have left the poem here?

**Someone Else?** She was acquainted with many men in Hertfordshire. Was she missing a clue?

Her stomach started to growl; she must have been outside for two hours by now and this latest development had diverted her attention but did nothing for her growing hunger. She sighed as she rose and collected the blanket, waking Dmitri from his nap. "Come Dmitri! Let us go home," she told him as he obediently fell into step beside her. Hesitant as she was to face her Mama and her constant criticisms, she knew if she lingered, she would face even more wrath. She did have responsibilities at home; mending, knitting, embroidery, helping her father's tenants, and tutoring her younger sisters. She would have to leave her private contemplations for later.

**(1) **_**The Solitary Reaper**_**: **William Wordsworth, 1770 - 1850

(**Author's Note: **Chapter 1 of 8. Last chapter will publish on 2/14)


	2. Marlowe

**Secret Valentine**

**Chapter 2: ****Marlowe**

**February 10, 1812:** Elizabeth had correctly anticipated her Mama's reaction to her extended absence; she was verbally assaulted upon her return from the pine grove yesterday and no expression of apology or regret, however sincere, would soothe her Mama's wounded sensibilities. Her ungratefulness had been the topic of conversation for at least an hour as she sat in the drawing room with her sisters, knitting blankets and clothing for a new baby, recently born to the Miller's, one of their father's tenants. Each daughter was expected to complete their tasks so the items could be delivered to the new parents the following day. She had worked into the evening completing her blanket and helping Lydia with her booties.

This morning, she decided that a shorter walk was in order; she could still have her walk and return before her Mama descended the stairs. She headed to the rocky meadow with Dmitri by her side, bundled in her winter coat, bonnet and gloves, with a wool shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She found a comfortable spot, spread out a blanket and settled down to read in the morning sunlight; she would have at least an hour before she would have to return to the house. Dmitri sniffed and romped nearby, chasing squirrels and other imagined intruders. She tried to ignore his antics but when his barking became more insistent, she rose to investigate. He was circling a rocky area and barking happily: "You silly dog!" she chided him, "what is it?" She was astonished to find that numerous small rocks had been arranged into a heart shape – atop the heart was a letter, addressed to 'Miss Elizabeth Bennet'! She gazed around her in all directions, searching for possible clues but found nothing. "Another letter!" she whispered as she knelt in front of the stone heart. She picked up the letter and observed the handwriting; written by the same hand as the first letter. Turning the letter over, she observed the seal, embossed with another fingerprint; perhaps a thumb, she wondered as she touched her thumb to impression in the red seal. She returned to the blanket and Dmitri settled in beside her.

Dispensing with further speculation, she immediately broke the seal and unfolded the paper, observing another unsigned poem:

from _**Hero and Leander**_ (2)

It lies not in our power to love or hate,

For will in us is overruled by fate.

When two are stripped, long ere the course begin,

We wish that one should love, the other win;

And one especially do we affect

Of two gold ingots, like in each respect:

The reason no man knows; let it suffice

What we behold is censured by our eyes.

Where both deliberate, the love is slight:

Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?

She recognized the poem about two young lovers who could not be together and met in secret, believing that fate had caused them to fall in love. This was just an excerpt from a longer poem that was quite explicit and ends quite tragically for the two lovers. In this verse, the lovers fall in love upon their first meeting: 'love at first sight'. She closed her eyes and sighed.

But why would someone leave this this particular poem for her? It puzzled her exceedingly. She gazed around the meadow as the sun emerged from the clouds. Who knew her well enough to know that she would find a letter in this meadow – or in the pine grove? Truthfully, everyone who knew her also knew of her fondness for walking; that was most certainly common knowledge. It may have been considered improper for a young woman to walk unescorted in public; however, there was no impropriety in walking alone on her own property. Of course, she had her canine escort, capable of defending her against any potential intruders. So if everyone knew of her fondness for walking, who knew of her favorite places to walk? Certainly Oakham Mount was the most picturesque area in Hertfordshire with its stunning view of the valley below and the mountains to the north, but she had not been there in almost a week. Would there be a letter waiting for her there? Unfortunately, she did not have enough time to walk there and back without risking the ire of her Mama. She slipped the letter into her pocket, gathered the blanket and called to Dmitri. She resolved to walk to Oakham Mount tomorrow morning, as she returned to the house and quietly slipped in through the back door. The kitchen was bustling with activity as the morning meal was being prepared, but the rest of the house was quiet.

When her Mama finally appeared below stairs, she observed her daughters wrapping up the knitted items to bring to the Miller's cottage, later that morning. "I am so pleased to see that all of my daughters have found useful employment," she said, dripping with sarcasm directed at Elizabeth. Finding nothing to criticize, she turned and went to the kitchen. Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief, having escaped her wrath, if only for the moment. Breakfast was mostly uneventful; her Mama only made one reference to them living in the hedgerows after her father's untimely passing, which was possibly to be very soon. Elizabeth stole a glance at her Papa, making sure not to offer a trace of a smile; however, her Papa rolled his eyes at the mention of his pending demise, prompting giggles from Kitty and Lydia.

After breakfast, the family rode to the Miller's cottage to offer the handmade gifts and admire the new baby. On the way home, she was once more assaulted with her Mama's comments: "Mrs. Miller is the same age as Elizabeth, is she not Mr. Bennet?" she asked her husband who only mumbled his response. "Yes, Mrs. Miller has provided _her_ Mama with a new grandchild, but my own daughter has refused me that privilege! Lady Lucas shall most certainly be boasting of a new grandchild in the near future, while I shall be forced to tolerate her boastfulness," she lamented, quite loudly.

Finally free of her Mama's observation, she was able to continue her private contemplations about her letters. Who knew her well enough to know where she walked each morning? She varied her walks and most days did not decide where to walk until she was already outside; she was not even aware of making a conscious decision on her destination. She knew for certain that she would go to Oakham Mount in the morning; would there be a letter there? She could only wonder.

(2) "It lies not in our power to love or hate" from _Hero and Leander_: Christopher Marlowe 1564–1593

(**Author's Note:** 2 of 8)


	3. Shakespeare

**Secret Valentine**

**Chapter 3: ****Shakespeare**

**February 11, 1812:** Elizabeth attended church services with her family. During the service she took the opportunity to study a few fellow worshipers: John Lucas (Charlotte's brother), Mr. Burberry (the widower) and Mr. Thurston (the bookseller) were all in attendance. She gazed at them, as nonchalantly as possible, to determine if they were in turn attempting to observe her. John seemed barely able to keep his eyes open; after a few minutes, he lost his battle to stay awake. Mr. Burberry kept his eyes focused on the parson, as an example for his young son. If young Timothy Burberry squirmed in his seat or diverted his eyes from the parson, he received a prompt pinch from his father, redirecting him to the front of the chapel. Mr. Thurston referred constantly to his hymnal and Bible, showing more interest in the books than anything else. No, none of them seemed likely candidates to Elizabeth; certainly they would glance in her direction if they had sent her a secret correspondence, she speculated.

After services, she greeted her friends and neighbors, paying close attention to any clues that may be presented; however, it was just the same as any other Sunday in recent history. No one was any more or less attentive to her than in the past.

On the ride home, Elizabeth could only think of Oakham Mount; she needed to get there as soon as possible. She ignored her Mama's usual gossip and chattering and planned her escape. She would have to wait until her Mama retired to her chamber for her usual Sunday afternoon nap before she would be able to leave the house unnoticed. Once home, she sat in the drawing room listening to Mary play the piano-forte until her Mama instructed Mary to find a quieter pastime. The next quarter-hour seemed the longest of her life, but once she was certain that her Mama was safely asleep, she donned her coat, bonnet, boots and gloves and headed outdoors with Dmitri.

Oakham Mount was the only thing on her mind as she walked purposefully in that direction. Dmitri, however, had other pursuits in mind as he raced in another direction. She tried calling him and coaxing him but no amount of praising or scolding would dissuade him from his course. She decided to catch up with him later as she continued on toward her destination. She ignored the scenery that she normally cherished and thought only of Oakham Mount as she walked on. Finally reaching her destination, she ran to the bench and searched all around it but nothing was there. She searched the nearby trees and also found nothing. She combed through the nearby bushes in search of an elusive prize but found none. She walked to the edge of the mount in hopes that her diligence would be rewarded, but no reward was to be hers today. She returned to the bench and sat down, finally observing the breathtaking vista before her; it was the most beautiful location in her tiny corner of the world. She laughed at herself for her foolishness: "Here I am searching for something to amaze me and I almost allowed the most amazing sight to elude me," she told herself. She sat for a few minutes more enjoying the richness of the scenery before finally rising to return home. _"It was a lovely adventure while it lasted," _thought she.

On her return trip, Dmitri ran toward her, prancing and barking, filled with excitement. She laughed to see him so merry. She wanted to scold him for abandoning her but he was so full of enthusiasm, she could not bring herself to discipline him. As she continued on her way back to the house, he ran toward the hayfield and back as though he was encouraging her to follow. She hesitated, knowing she should return to the house before her Mama awoke from her nap; however, he was so insistent that she could not refuse him. She followed him to the hayfield and he jumped with excitement. She followed his gaze and spied a white rectangle propped up on a hay stack. "Oh Dmitri, you clever boy!" she exclaimed as she ran toward the hay stack with great anticipation. There it was! Another letter addressed to 'Miss Elizabeth Bennet' was wedged into the hay. "And you knew it the whole time!" she exclaimed as she hugged Dmitri around the neck and scratched his ears. She grabbed the letter, slipped it into her pocket and ran back to the house. She would have to wait to read it until later when she was alone in her chamber.

She hid the letter with the others in her closet and hurried downstairs to join her father and her sisters in the drawing room. She had made some progress on her embroidery by the time her Mama came downstairs to check on her family. "Ah, Lizzy, there you are, hard at work, I see," said her Mama sarcastically. Elizabeth cringed at the assault that was about to begin. "It is such a shame that your handiwork is all for naught. There shall be no trousseau, no husband, no infants. No, none of that for you, poor Lizzy! Charlotte Lucas has stolen them all away from you," she lamented. "Oh, forgive me! Charlotte Collins, I should have said," she said, dripping with sarcasm.

Mr. Bennet rose to his full height and addressed his wife: "My dear Mrs. Bennet, may I speak to you in my study?" he asked and gestured toward the door. She walked to the study, followed by her husband who closed the study door behind them. All four girls quietly ran to listen at the door. They heard their father speak: "Fannie, my dearest, why do you continuously criticize our daughter for refusing Mr. Collins?" There was a pause for a moment and he continued. "I am well aware of your opinion on the subject. You have repeated it unceasingly for the last two months," he told her, with unusual irritation in his voice. "Would you care to know my opinion on the matter?" he asked her. After another pause, he continued: "There was no possibility that Mr. Collins would have ever received my consent to his marrying _any_ of my precious daughters," he said definitively. After another pause, he asked her: "And would you care to know why I would not approve of such man? A man with a suitable income? A man who is to inherit Longbourn?" he asked, now clearly irritated. "Mr. Collins is a pompous sycophant! His constant praise for his _esteemed patroness_ showed him to care only for people who can help to increase his own wealth and place in society. Through his entire visit here at Longbourn, he spoke of nothing but his love of material possessions; he even mentioned the value of every item at Rosings. A man of the cloth, in my opinion, should show more humility and modesty; however, he is the most boastful, pretentious, obsequious, prideful, social climbing, materialistic man of my acquaintance! No, my dearest Fannie! A man like that shall never do – not for _my_ daughters!"

Elizabeth quietly pulled her sisters away from the door, not wanting them to be discovered when their mother emerged from the study. They resumed their previous activities and waited quietly in the drawing room. They heard their mother leave the study and go to the kitchen, saying she had to check on supper. Elizabeth was very sorry to have her mother chastised so thoroughly but very relieved that her father had finally put an end to her suffering. She was confident that she would hear no more of the illustrious, elusive Mr. Collins; at least not in the near future.

Later that evening, when she and Dmitri were finally alone in her chamber, she gathered her three letters together and sat near the candle. She was delighted to find that the seal on the newest letter was embossed with a coin; it appeared to be a farthing. Dmitri sniffed the letter and wagged his tail in appreciation. She broke the seal and found another poem:

**Sonnet CIX: O! never say that I was false of heart** **(3)**

O! never say that I was false of heart,

Though absence seemed my flame to qualify.

As easy might I from myself depart

As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie:

That is my home of love; if I have ranged,

Like him that travels. I return again,

Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,

So that myself bring water for my stain.

Never believe, though in my nature reigned

All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,

That it could so preposterously be stained,

To leave for nothing all thy sum of good;

For nothing this wide universe I call,

Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all.

At the bottom of the poem, instead of a signature, the sender had drawn a heart. In this poem, the writer is remorseful for being absent from his love. "Dmitri," she said. "I have a secret valentine!" She still had no inkling of his identity, as she gazed at all three open letters. The handwriting was neat and even in all three. This led her to recall something that Caroline Bingley had once said about her brother's handwriting: that he was careless, left words out and blotted out other words. These letters showed none of those characteristics; the writing was perfectly legible and there was not a single blot on the page or a missing word – except, of course, for the signature of the writer! No, Mr. Bingley was definitely not the writer, of _that_ she was certain. Unfortunately, she had no such certainty about anything else related to the valentines.

She recalled another conversation at Netherfield when her Mama had visited during Jane's illness; she had retold the story about Jane's former admirer who had penned some 'pretty verses' to her. Hoping to quickly put an end to the embarrassing story, she had told Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy that the poetry had driven love away. It had pained Jane so to have received the poems without an offer of marriage; but Elizabeth felt no such pain – only curiosity.

She folded up her valentines, hid them away and readied for bed. "Tomorrow, Mr. Valentine! I shall contemplate you further tomorrow," she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

**(3) Sonnet CIX: O! never say that I was false of heart: **William Shakespeare 1564–1616

(**Author's Note:** February 11, 1812 was really a Tuesday, but let's go with Sunday for this story!)


	4. Herrick

**Secret Valentine**

**Chapter 4: ****Herrick**

**(Author's Note: **Dear Readers, I'm terribly sorry that there was a delay with my chapter yesterday. had an issue and hopefully it has been completely resolved by now. Back to the story…)

**February 12, 1812:** Elizabeth awoke with a start the next morning when Dmitri bolted off the bed and ran to the window. She heard thunder rumbling in the distance. She rolled over to go back to sleep but Dmitri nudged her repeatedly until she opened her eyes and observed him with his head on her pillow and tail wagging with excitement. She buried her head beneath the pillow to avoid his insistent stare but he would not relent until she rose reluctantly from her bed. She walked to the window and observed that it had rained. "_Surely there would be no letter from Mr. Valentine today_," she thought. "No walk today, Dmitri," she told him as she returned to bed. "Let us sleep a while longer." Unfortunately, this was not in Dmitri's plan; he pounced on top of her until she finally rose and dressed, complaining all the while: "Who is the mistress here? _Me__; I_ am the mistress! Yet, it seems that _you_ are the one in charge. I am merely a _servant_ to Dmitri! Yes! I am talking to _you_!" she told him as they descended the stairs and approached the back door. She opened the door and allowed him to run out while she donned her warm outerwear. When she emerged from the house, she noticed that the ground was wet; this made the conditions for walking unsuitable. It would not do for her to get soaking wet or muddy. Even though her Mama would probably no longer criticize her for rejecting Collins, she would not hesitate to criticize her for soiling her clothes or catching a cold. Dmitri seemed to sense her thoughts and was running toward the barn; that _would_ be the best place to spend her free time until breakfast. She already had a cozy corner set up for rainy days, with a blanket and a lantern. She gathered her skirts to prevent them from touching the wet ground.

They entered the barn and headed for their corner; Dmitri enthusiastically sniffed the floor. She stopped short as she reached their corner; there was another letter! A bucket had been turned upside-down, a cup holding a red rosebud was placed on top, and the letter was leaning against the cup. She turned and searched the rest of the barn, expecting to find someone hiding there, but there was no one. Returning to the corner, she sat on the blanket and stared at the scene before her. Who could have known that she would come _here_ this morning? Who could have entered the barn unnoticed? She gazed at Dmitri who was still wagging his tail enthusiastically and looking quite pleased with himself. "_Perhaps Mr. Valentine did not go unnoticed,"_ she thought. "Did you see him, Dmitri? Did you see Mr. Valentine?" she asked him. He barked happily and pranced about, pushing his muzzle into her hand, seeking her praise. She recalled how he had led her to two other letters; perhaps she did not decide where her morning walks led her after all; perhaps it was Dmitri who decided where they should walk on those mornings; he certainly had done so today. "Good boy!" she told him as she unwrapped a breakfast roll and shared it with him. He ate greedily then settled down next to her. She finally reached for the letter and turned it over to examine the seal: embossed with another coin, this time a shilling. She was charmed that each of the four letters had been sealed in a different and imaginative way. She broke the seal and read the poem:

**Of Love**(4)

How Love came in, I do not know,

Whether by th' eye, or eare, or no:

Or whether with the soule it came

(At first) infused with the same:

Whether in part 'tis here or there,

Or, like the soule, whole every where:

This troubles me: but as I well

As any other, this can tell;

That when from hence she does depart,

The out-let then is from the heart.

At the bottom of the poem, a heart was drawn with an arrow through it. _"Cupid's arrow,"_ she thought. She was enraptured by the sentiment but also saddened by it: _"Someone loves me but will not reveal himself,"_ she thought. _"How wonderful it is to be loved but how sad that he is still unknown to me."_ These thoughts confused her terribly. She had never known a man to be in love with her. Even though Mr. Collins had proposed to her, she was certain that he did not love her; his proposal was simply a way to make the entail of the house and his eventual inheritance more agreeable to the family. Why had Mr. Valentine not approached her or her father if he wished to court her? Why the secrecy? Did she want him to reveal himself? She had to admit that the secrecy did add a bit of romance; he even left a token this time. She reached for the rosebud and inhaled its scent. Roses were out of season in February; Mr. Valentine must have paid dearly for it. She reread the poem a few more times while holding the rose next to her cheek. "Who are you, Mr. Valentine?" she whispered. She left the barn and returned to the house to hide the letter and the rose before the rest of the family stirred.

**(4) **_**Of Love**_**: **Robert Herrick 1591–1674


	5. Spenser

**Secret Valentine**

**(Author's Note: **Thank you for your lovely reviews!)

**Chapter 5: ****Spenser**

**February 13, 1812:** "Go find my valentine," Elizabeth instructed Dmitri as they stepped outside into the chilly morning. Since he had led her to previous valentines, she felt sure that he would do the same this morning. He sniffed and pranced, circled her, ran ahead and ran back again, enjoying his morning walk with his mistress. She laughed at his antics all the way to Oakham Mount, where he ran to the bench and barked with excitement. She had no doubt what he had found; a perfect white rectangle with her name on it! She gave him a scratch behind the ear and sat on the bench, next to the letter, inhaling deeply and taking in the view around her. She loved this spot in the morning; it always held such promise for the new day and today was no exception as she picked up the letter and admired the writing. She turned it over and examined the seal; embossed with another coin – today it was a crown. _"So imaginative and yet, still secretive,"_ she thought. She broke the seal and found another poem.

**Amoretti LXXV: One Day I Wrote her Name**(5)

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,

But came the waves and washed it away:

Again I wrote it with a second hand,

But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.

"Vain man," said she, "that dost in vain assay,

A mortal thing so to immortalize;

For I myself shall like to this decay,

And eke my name be wiped out likewise."

"Not so," (quod I) "let baser things devise

To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:

My verse your vertues rare shall eternize,

And in the heavens write your glorious name:

Where whenas death shall all the world subdue,

Our love shall live, and later life renew."

Once again, Mr. Valentine had drawn a heart; this heart had a keyhole in the center. _"How curious,"_ she thought. _"What could that mean? Is his heart locked? Is he unavailable? Is he married?"_ she thought with alarm. She pushed these negative thoughts from her mind and gazed at the scenery: "Oakham Mount, please tell me that Mr. Valentine is a fine, respectable man," she pleaded. Dmitri wagged his tail in agreement. "Come Dmitri, let us go home," she called to the dog and they made their way back to the house.

After breakfast, Elizabeth joined her two youngest sisters and walked to Meryton. Kitty and Lydia had high hopes of a 'redcoat encounter'. "How I love a man in uniform!" Lydia exclaimed as Kitty giggled her approval. Elizabeth had to admit that she also admired the men in their redcoats, especially Mr. Wickham. He was quite handsome, but appeared even more dashing in his red uniform. She secretly hoped that they would encounter him so she would have the opportunity to observe his demeanor and determine if he was her secret valentine.

When they arrived at Meryton, the streets were bustling with activity; townspeople bundled up in their warm winter coats were strolling leisurely or clustered in groups, chatting amiably, but none of them wore red. Lydia was extremely disappointed and pouted in frustration. Elizabeth was not deterred by the absence of redcoats; she still had other prospects to explore. She entered the bookshop while her sisters waited outside. Mr. Thurston usually greeted her amiably but today he was assisting another customer and seemed absorbed in thought. She sauntered past the books, pausing momentarily to touch a book binding before continuing, trying to catch the proprietor's eye. He finally observed her and smiled, waving and holding up a finger to indicate he would be with her in a moment. When he was finished with the customer, he greeted her with a happy demeanor, and asked after her health and her family. She assured him of the good health of everyone, giving him her prettiest smile. "Is there a special book you are looking for today, Miss Elizabeth? Perhaps a new publication?" he asked her.

She waited patiently while he showed her the latest titles and she perused the books with interest, listening attentively while he described each book. He seemed more interested in the books than anything else _or anyone else_ in the shop. _"No,"_ she concluded, _"Mr. Thurston is not my secret admirer. Books seem to be his only passion!"_ She thanked him profusely and promised to consider the new titles and return next week to make a purchase; she _would_ need a book for her visit to Charlotte Collins next month. When she left the bookshop, her sisters rushed off to their aunt's house, impatient for amusement.

As they approached the house, Mr. Burberry emerged from his house and exchanged warm greetings with the girls. Lydia and Kitty were impatient to get inside and ran ahead into their aunt's house. Elizabeth apologized for her sisters' poor manners but Mr. Burberry would hear nothing of it: "No, Miss Elizabeth," he said, "you must also get out of this treacherously cold air. I will not have you catching a chill on my account." He tucked his scarf more securely around his neck, took his leave and hurried on his way. _"No, Mr. Burberry is definitely not Mr. Valentine!" _she thought. _"He would never defy the frosty February mornings to leave a love poem out of doors for a silly Bennet girl!"_

The sisters enjoyed a short visit with their aunt then returned home. While they sat next to the fire in the drawing room, working on their embroidery projects, Elizabeth contemplated her next move: _"Tomorrow is Valentine's Day and Mr. Valentine has been most attentive; however, I have not expressed my appreciation for his efforts."_ She decided to write a valentine for him and leave it at one of the places that he had chosen. _"But which place? And what shall I write to a man who is still anonymous?"_ she wondered.

She recalled the song she had sung at Lucas Lodge when Mr. Bingley and his party had first arrived in Hertfordshire. It was a sweet love poem that suited her needs perfectly. She went to her chamber and wrote out the poem in her best handwriting, addressing it: 'Dear Mr. Valentine'.

**My Luve's Like a Red, Red Rose  
**O my Luve's like a red, red rose  
That's newly sprung in June;  
O my Luve's like the melodie  
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,  
And the rocks melt wi' the sun:  
I will luve thee still, my dear,  
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee well, my only Luve  
And fare thee well, a while!  
And I will come again, my Luve,  
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.

She signed the bottom of the letter, 'Your Secret Valentine', folded the letter and sealed it with the seal bearing her initials: **EB**. She then wrapped the letter with a red ribbon from her collection and tied it in a neat bow. She sat back and admired the valentine: _"Yes, any man would be very happy to receive such a pretty valentine,"_ she thought. She slipped it into her pocket, knowing exactly where she would leave it and made plans to make her escape before sunset.

**(5) Amoretti LXXV: ****One Day I Wrote her Name****: **Edmund Spenser 1552–1599

(6) **My Luve's Like a Red, Red Rose****:** (excerpt) Robert Burns 1759–1796

(**Author's Note:** 5 of 8. Valentines during Austen's era were written on plain paper. Hand-colored valentines were first mass-produced in factories around 1820.)


	6. Emerson

**Secret Valentine**

**Chapter 6: ****Emerson**

**February 14, 1812:** Dmitri bolted out of the door and ran ahead of Elizabeth. She felt certain that he would lead her to the rocky meadow, where she had left her valentine last evening. She had placed it on top of the stone heart, hoping that Mr. Valentine would see it there. As they approached the stone heart, she observed that the valentine that she had left there was gone, now replaced with a new one. She scanned the area for any signs of life: _"Are you here, Mr. Valentine?"_ she wondered. She gazed between the trees in the distant pine grove, hoping to discover him hiding there; but she saw no one. Did he like her poem? Will he return? Will he reveal himself? She had no answers to her questions, only more questions. She knelt down before the stone heart and observed the new valentine, addressed to her, folded into a square and wrapped in a white lace ribbon. She picked up the paper square, turned it over and recognized the intricate folded design; it had been folded into a puzzle purse and the center was sealed with red wax, embossed with a key. (7) "How unusual," she smiled as she touched the seal. She sat next to the heart, untied the ribbon and slipped it into her pocket. She slid her finger under the paper's edge, broke the seal and unfolded the paper, taking care not to rip it. Inside was another poem.

**Give All to Love** (8)

Give all to love;

Obey thy heart;

Friends, kindred, days,

Estate, good-frame,

Plans, credit and the Muse,—

Nothing refuse.

'T is a brave master;

Let it have scope:

Follow it utterly,

Hope beyond hope:

High and more high

It dives into noon,

With wing unspent,

Untold intent:

But it is a god,

Knows its own path

And the outlets of the sky.

It was never for the mean;

It requireth courage stout.

Souls above doubt,

Valor unbending,

It will reward,—

They shall return

More than they were,

And ever ascending.

The bottom was signed with a heart, a keyhole in the center and an outline of a Key: "_The key to his heart? How romantic!" _she thought as she hugged the valentine to her chest. Certainly he would reveal himself now, she thought. She stood and smoothed her skirts, expecting him to approach at any moment. She waited for a few minutes, turning in a circle observing the distant trees and meadow; no one was there. The sun peeked out from behind a cloud and illuminated the grove with a bright light; however no secrets were revealed. She and Dmitri were alone. She looked down at the stone heart and sighed; she had allowed herself to hope that Mr. Valentine would reveal himself and now she felt the disappointment set in. Slipping the valentine into her pocket, she turned and walked back to the house.

~~oo~~

After breakfast, Elizabeth and her sisters walked again to Meryton. Lydia and Kitty still had hopes of meeting with the militia men. Their quest for redcoats had not been satisfied yesterday and today they were determined to find them. Elizabeth ignored their giddy chatter as they made their way into town; she could only reflect on her actions that morning when she stood in the middle of the rocky meadow waiting for a mysterious someone to arrive. _"How foolish I must have looked!"_ she thought. _"I would expect my silly sisters to have such foolish notions but I am supposedly a sensible Bennet sister,"_ she silently scolded herself. When they arrived at Meryton, the streets were bustling with activity; redcoats were everywhere! The girls could scarcely contain their excitement! "Mr. Wickham!" Lydia called out. "Where have you been?" Elizabeth scolded her sister for being so forward, but Lydia paid no attention to her.

"Miss Lydia! How good to see you again; you and your sisters," he called back to her. When they stood face to face, they exchanged proper greetings, inquired after everyone's health and were assured of the good health of the rest of the family. "May I escort you ladies somewhere?" he asked them.

"Oh yes, that would be delightful," Lydia exclaimed. "We are going to the dressmaker's shop to look at ribbons," she told him, latching on to his arm. Elizabeth slipped her hand into her pocket and touched the lace ribbon from her valentine. She had never seen such a ribbon in Meryton; _where did Mr. Valentine purchase it? _she wondered. Once inside the store, Lydia and Kitty became engrossed with the ribbons, leaving Elizabeth alone with Wickham.

"I am quite fortunate to encounter you today, Miss Elizabeth," he told her. "We only have two hours of free time before we return to training maneuvers."

"Has your training kept you quite occupied, Mr. Wickham?" she asked, hoping to learn more about his recent activities.

"Quite so, we have trained nearly constantly for the past week and we shall continue for another week. I look forward to having some time off," he told her. "A military life is not the living I had expected but my current state of near poverty has required me to make sacrifices. Of course you well know that Pemberley was once my home. If I had been allowed to take the living that was bequeathed to me, I would be living a much different lifestyle today," he said somberly, without making reference to the source of his misfortune. She felt much sympathy for him; he would now be a country parson if not for Mr. Darcy's cruel actions against him.

"Mr. Wickham, what do you think of this ribbon?" Lydia asked as she breezed by him fluttering the ribbon in the air.

"Lydia, please try to control yourself!" Elizabeth scolded her.

"I must have it, Lizzy! It is simply divine!" she exclaimed. "Please loan me some money," she begged her sister.

Before Elizabeth could respond, Wickham pulled a coin out of his pocket and handed it to Lydia: "Allow me, Miss Lydia," he said with a bow. Lydia squealed with delight, curtsied and ran to the back of the store to purchase the divine ribbon. Elizabeth silently wondered how a man in a state of near poverty could afford such generosity. When Lydia returned, she latched onto Wickham's arm once again and he escorted them out to the street. "I regret that I must take my leave of the Bennet sisters," he said, much to their disappointment. "If I had more time, I would escort you back home however I must return to my regiment; it would not do to be late, I fear," he lamented.

They took their leave and as the sisters walked back home, Elizabeth pondered their most recent encounter. If Wickham had been training in the past week, he would not have had time to ride to Longbourn and leave valentines for her; much less write them, nor would Mr. Denny. And if Wickham had been her secret valentine, would he not have paid more attention to her or at least complimented her? He never even mentioned that today is Valentine's Day. Recalling her past discussions with him, all he ever discussed was his financial state. No, she was quite certain that Mr. Wickham held no special affections for her and that he was not her secret valentine. However, now having eliminated Wickham and Denny, she still had no idea of the identity of her mystery admirer. She looked up at the trees lining the road to Longbourn and sent a silent wish into the wind: "Happy Valentine's Day, Mr. Valentine, whoever you are!"

(7)** Puzzle Purse: **An origami-style folded paper craft. For pictures and instructions, google search on "puzzle purse valentine".

**(8) Give All to Love: **(excerpt) Ralph Waldo Emerson 1803–1882


	7. Thank You, Mr Valentine

**Secret Valentine**

**Chapter 7: ****Thank you, Mr. Valentine**

**February 15, 1812:** When Elizabeth awoke the following morning, she was greeted by the sun streaming through her window. Dmitri was still sleeping as she rose and walked to the window. It looked the same as every other morning; sunny, bright and full of potential – but somehow she knew that today would not be the same. She dressed quickly for her morning walk and Dmitri reluctantly followed her below stairs. She had decided to search all of her favorite places for any possible clues that may have been left behind, and if she found a letter – all the better!

She stopped first at the barn. Her cozy corner still looked as inviting as it had before, but there was no valentine or token waiting for her. Dmitri had settled onto the blanket and was startled when his mistress suddenly left the barn.

She stopped next at the hayfield. The haystacks stood lazily in place, offering no surprises and no rewards. Dmitri pranced as she circled each haystack; they had often chased each other in this field but today she paid no attention to his antics.

She walked on to the pine grove, where she had found the first valentine. Normally she found the grove to be inspiring but today it seemed somewhat desolate. Her loyal companion followed her obediently, unfamiliar with the somber tone displayed by his mistress.

Certainly Oakham Mount would cheer her, she thought. The most amazing view in the county would bring a smile to her face, no doubt. She walked on until she reached her destination, searching the area for a paper prize. She searched the entire area, high and low, but found no trace of paper. She sat down on the bench and gazed at the view; how could she have neglected this stunning view? She thought of her Mama scolding her for being selfish and ungrateful. "Yes Mama, you are right! I am selfish and ungrateful!" she said aloud, pacing back and forth. "I have a beautiful view before me, but still I keep searching. I have six beautiful valentines hidden away and yet I search for one more. I am like a spoiled child, never satisfied with what I have already been given, expecting more and more, and still not satisfied." Dmitri could only look on in confusion. He sat quietly while his mistress fretted, paced, ranted and then became silent.

She left Oakham Mount resolving to be more appreciative of the blessings in her life: she was given a wonderful, exciting and romantic gift, even if the giver was to remain unknown. She said a silent prayer of thanks as she walked. She indeed had been very fortunate that she had not been forced to marry a man who could have saved her family from potential ruin; indeed her friend Charlotte had not been as fortunate. She glanced at Dmitri and noticed his forlorn appearance; she realized that she had been neglecting him, even as he steadfastly followed her though her fruitless search and fitful rantings. She picked up a broken branch and threw it for him to retrieve; one of his favorite games. He chased after the branch enthusiastically and returned with it, eager to play again.

They continued on through the rocky meadow and stopped when she spotted the stone heart. It remained undisturbed and she hoped that it would remain just so. She knelt down in front of the heart and touched each stone, thinking of the man who had placed them there. She removed the lace ribbon from her pocket and admired it as she wound it through her fingers. "Thank you, Mr. Valentine. Thank you for giving me such a wonderful gift. I shall treasure your love poems and tokens. You opened the door to a world I had never known. You brought romance into my life and I shall be forever grateful. I shall 'give all to love and obey my heart'. Someday, I hope to marry a man just as thoughtful and romantic as you."

~~oo~~

**That night, Lizzy had a dream…**

_Elizabeth was walking through the meadow and encountered two chestnut horses that appeared to have lost their riders. They were both saddled and were trailing their reins behind them as they grazed on the grass. She approached the horses and they greeted her with a bow. She curtsied to them and knew instantly that they were both gentle souls. She gathered the reins of one, secured them to the other, which she then mounted. "Walk on, gentle horses. Let us find your master." They walked on through the meadow and it began to snow. She felt only warmth as they continued on their journey. They soon encountered John Lucas: "Lizzy, my fair maiden! You are a sight to behold! The snow dances around you like diamonds! What is it that you seek?" he asked her._

"_I have found these two horses and I seek their master."_

"_Two fine horses, indeed! I wish you success in your quest." John walked away through the snowy meadow and out of sight. _

_They walked on through the meadow which was no longer covered with snow but with a carpet of heather. They soon encountered Mr. Burberry: "Miss Elizabeth, my bonnie lass! You are a shining star! What is it that you seek?"_

"_I have found these two horses and I seek their master."_

"_Two fine horses, indeed! I wish you success in your quest." Burberry walked away through the heather-filled hillside and out of sight._

_They walked on through the hillside, which had now become a grand formal garden. Blooms of every color appeared in elegant rows. They soon encountered Mr. Collins: "Greetings my esteemed cousin Elizabeth! You are a vision of loveliness! You seem born to be a duchess! What is it that you seek?" _

"_I have found these two horses and I seek their master."_

"_Two fine horses, indeed! I wish you success in your quest." Collins walked away through the elegant garden and out of sight._

_They walked on past the garden to a babbling brook. They soon encountered Mr. Thurston: "Miss Elizabeth! You are a ray of sunshine! You appear to be the fair princess of the brook. What is it that you seek?"_

"_I have found these two horses and I seek their master."_

"_Two fine horses, indeed! I wish you success in your quest." Thurston walked away, past the brook and out of sight._

_They walked on past the babbling brook into a valley with a grand mountain view, filled with vivid autumn foliage of gold, yellow, crimson, burnt orange, and green. They soon encountered Mr. Bingley: "Miss Elizabeth, You are precious jewel! You seem like an angel from heaven! What is it that you seek?"_

"_I have found these two horses and I seek their master."_

"_Two fine horses, indeed! I wish you success in your quest." Bingley walked away, down through the valley and out of sight._

_They walked on past the valley and into the empty streets of Meryton. They walked past the shops but not a soul was to be found. They soon encountered Mr. Wickham: "Miss Elizabeth, How lovely you are!" What is it that you seek?"_

"_I have found these two horses and I seek their master."_

"_Two fine horses, indeed! I wish you success in your quest." Wickham walked away, turned the corner and out of sight._

_They walked on past Meryton onto the sands of the ocean. It was nighttime; the stars and the moon were shining brightly above. The horses walked into the ocean and the waves crashed gently around them. They soon encountered Mr. Darcy and the horses bowed to him in recognition and welcome. Mr. Darcy returned their greeting and smiled broadly: "Miss Elizabeth, you are an enchanted goddess! The moon pales in comparison to you! My horses have never had such a regal rider!" He reached for her hand and helped her down from the horse. The waves swirled around their feet; the moon shone in his eyes; he handed her a red rose. "A rose for my rose." He lifted her chin and kissed her cheek. _

~~oo~~

She awoke to find Dmitri licking her cheek. She smiled and hugged his neck. "Thank you, Dmitri! You are my favorite valentine of all!"

(**Author's Note:** 7 of 8)


	8. Epilogue: One Year Later

**Secret Valentine**

**Chapter 8: ****Epilogue: One Year Later**

**(Author's Note: **Thank you for your lovely reviews, your favorites and your guesses! I hope you enjoy the final chapter!)

**February 14, 1813: **William Darcy gazed at his bride while she lay sleeping. Unwilling to rouse her from her slumber, he resisted the urge to push her unruly curls away from her face. Normally, he would stay in bed with her and they would greet the morning together, but today he had other plans. He gave her one more glance and then slipped out the door.

Elizabeth Darcy awoke with a smile and reached for her husband. She was sorely disappointed to find herself quite alone. Each day of their marriage she had awakened with William by her side, but today he was nowhere in sight. "_Perhaps he had business to attend to_," she thought to herself. Spending hours alone in their chamber each morning had become a pleasant routine for them but she supposed that reality had suddenly set in and business affairs could be put off no longer. She reached her limbs out in a long, leisurely stretch and pulled William's pillow closer to cuddle with it a moment longer. The softness that she had expected to touch her cheek was blocked by a piece of paper. "_Oh, how thoughtful,_" she thought, _"William has left a note._"

She sat up to read the note and was shocked by what she saw: what she thought was a note, was instead a square puzzle purse, addressed to 'Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy' in the same handwriting as the secret valentines she had received one year ago! This valentine, however, was sealed with the Darcy family crest. The solution to her compelling mystery was now finally revealed to her. "William was my secret valentine!" she whispered as she hugged the valentine to her chest. She immediately broke open the seal and carefully unfolded the paper. She smiled as she observed a poem, transposed in the same orderly handwriting:

**Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?**** (9)**

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date:

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair declines,

By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade

Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;

Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou growest;

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

The valentine was signed, 'Eternally Yours, William'.

She sighed. "How thoughtful my darling husband is, to leave me a love poem when he cannot be here to wake with me," she thought. "I must dress quickly and find him to thank him properly," she planned to thank him in the nicest way possible, giggling to herself as she bounced out of bed, donned her dressing gown and walked toward the adjoining door to her private chamber. She opened the door and was unprepared for what she saw! It was her own dear William, wearing his dressing gown and his most handsome smile, standing next to the table which was set for breakfast, including a vase holding a dozen red roses! "William!" she exclaimed as she ran to him and wrapped her arms around him. "You were my secret valentine! Why did you not tell me?" she asked.

He embraced her tightly and said: "I wanted to give you a Valentine surprise! Are you pleased, my darling?"

"More pleased than you can imagine!" she said, showering him with kisses. "I had no idea that you had a fondness for love poems."

"I have been used to consider poetry as the _food_ of love," he replied. (10)

She gasped with sudden realization: "I had forgotten that you once mentioned that! We were at Netherfield with my Mama when she spoke of Jane's former suitor…. How did I miss that clue?" she wondered aloud.

He laughed heartily: "Did you enjoy finding the valentines last year?" he asked her, kissing her hands.

"Oh yes William, but I had no idea they were from you. I thoroughly enjoyed your poetry selections and your unusual embossing. I was rather surprised that you made a puzzle purse; the folds are quite complicated," she laughed, kissing him.

"Yes, I agree! Georgie taught me; however, I ruined three other pages before I finally perfected the folds," he told her. He sat down, pulled her onto his lap and handed her a letter which she instantly recognized; it was the letter she had written to her secret valentine. "You kept it!" she was overjoyed and then suddenly overcome with sadness. She cried softly, burying her face into his neck.

William became alarmed: "What is it my darling Elizabeth? What has made you weep?" he asked her.

Her heart broke as she told him: "I destroyed your valentines after we were betrothed. I truly did not know they were yours, William! I thought they were from another man and that it would be improper to keep them. I burned them," she said, weeping wretchedly as she recalled the sight of the beautiful papers burning in the fire.

He stroked her hair and whispered: "Please do not cry, my darling. I could have revealed myself to you last year, but, at the time, I had not the courage. Then I planned to reveal myself to you at Hunsford, but…" he hesitated.

"But I rejected you!" she said, crying even more wretchedly.

"No my darling, you must not cry over lost valentines. We have found each other now and we have a library filled to overflowing with volumes of love poetry," he said as he embraced her warmly, rubbing her back. "I shall rewrite your valentines, if you prefer, and hide them on the grounds for you to find," he suggested with a smile while drying her tears with his handkerchief.

Feeling more at ease, she smiled as she considered his suggestion: "And will you arrange stones in the shape of a heart, as well?"

"I shall arrange enormous boulders in the shape of a heart! I shall have the gardens torn out and replanted in heart shapes!" He picked up a piece of toast and exclaimed: "I shall order that all the toast be cut into heart shapes!" She giggled at his silly proclamations. He gestured toward the window and told her, dramatically: "I shall have all the windows in Pemberley removed and replaced with heart shaped windows!"

She laughed at her husband and happily kissed him: "Thank you, my darling, but that shall not be necessary," she told him. "I shall start a new collection of valentines, starting with this one," as she picked up her latest valentine. She suddenly gasped: "My wish came true!" she exclaimed. When he cast a quizzical glance, she explained: "I could not bear to destroy your lovely rosebud or lace ribbon. I gave the ribbon to a tenant's young daughter to wear in her hair. I tossed the rose into the river and made a wish!" she told him.

"What did you wish for?" he asked with a smile.

"I wished that Mr. Valentine would 'obey his heart and give all to love!'" she told him and kissed him in appreciation.

He smiled and kissed her hands: "As Emerson has advised us," he replied, recognizing the words from a previous poem he selected for Valentine's Day. He pulled a red ribbon out of his pocket and showed it to her. "I secretly carried your ribbon in my pocket every day. I enjoyed having a love token from you," he told her.

She smiled in appreciation: "But how did you know where to place my valentines? Why did I not see you in Hertfordshire? Did anyone see you?" she asked with great curiosity.

"Only Dmitri saw me," he said to her amazement. "He found me the first day but I gather he never revealed my secret," he said with a sly smile. "I stayed in Essex to prevent being discovered by any residents of Hertfordshire. (11) I watched you from a distance for a few days to learn your walking routine and planned my locations based on your movements," he told her. "I arrived before dawn each day, scattered bits of beef jerky nearby to lure Dmitri to the valentines and left quickly to avoid discovery," he explained.

"I thought I had discovered the valentines on my own but finally realized that clever Dmitri was leading me to them," she told him.

He was relieved that she was in good spirits: "Shall I tell you how I selected each poem?" he asked her as he twirled the curls of her hair around his fingers.

"Yes William, I would like to hear that story, sometime. However, at the moment, I would prefer to thank you properly for _all_ my valentines," she said as she reached into his dressing gown and caressed his chest.

He smiled and gazed at her with smoldering eyes: "As you wish," he said as he lifted her and carried her to the bed.

(9) Sonnet XVIII, _Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?_: William Shakespeare 1564–1616

(10) (P&P, Chapter 9)

(11) Essex County, England shares a border with Hertfordshire.

~~The End~~

(**Author's Note:** Happy Valentine's Day!)


End file.
